


Tick-Tock

by plaguewind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drug Use, F/M, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-05 20:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10316540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaguewind/pseuds/plaguewind
Summary: I sleep...or do I sleep? I don't know anymore. I never stop because there is no end in sight. I am numb. And then there is her. - PetyrHe doesn't see me coming. I am not even on his radar as an adversary. He's not going to know what's hit him. - Sansa





	1. Chapter 1

**_Petyr_ **

Alarm goes off at six thirty a.m. Jolt up, eyes wide. Had I even slept? Doesn’t matter, day must go on. Take a shower, brush my teeth, put on my suit. Seventeen-hundred dollar Armani, check. I look in the mirror, make sure my mask is straight. Of course it is, it doesn’t leave my face anymore. I take my pills. When did they become _my_ pills? Glass of water to chase two down and I’m all set for a few hours. Briefcase, keys, and I’m out the door. 

I run into Mrs. Roberts in the hallway. She smiles, delighted to see me as always. Her husband drinks and yells all the time and she deals with it because he has money. She wants to fuck me. I know this by how she leans her body into mine, how she giggles at almost everything I say, even if it isn’t funny. It’s sad and if I had a heart I might give her a pity fuck but I don’t so I make small talk until I can push my way past her and get on with my day. So far she has been unable to take a hint. 

Seven a.m. appointment is at Bellevue. I stand at the head of a long, oval table surrounded by physicians and surgeons, convincing them that the drugs I’m selling are better than any they have seen before, that’s why they are so expensive of course. Research has proven it, yada yada. They aren’t better though, not really. I’m selling anti-depressants, anti-seizure medications, high blood pressure pills, pain pills, you name it. The ones that sell the best are the pain pills. The herion. It’s not really heroin, it’s synthetic heroin. Acceptable heroin. The pill industry was booming and I was climbing on top of it. 

Nine a.m. pain clinic, 11 a.m Mount Sinai, 1 p.m. lunch. Lunch consisted of two more pills and coffee. Then on to the next clinic, next hospital. The money wouldn’t make itself, always had to snag the next big client. I learned quickly how easy money was to make with drugs, even if you were selling them legally. Legal drug dealer. Sometimes the thought made me bust out laughing, even if I was siting alone in a booth and the other patrons stared at me. That made it even funnier. They wouldn’t laugh if they seen my bank account. Pharmaceutical sales reps could bank $132,000 a year and I made obscenely more than that because I was part owner of the company as well. Once Varys had suggested I leave the sales to the salesmen but I had a knack for convincing people to buy, I had a knack for convincing people to do anything. Why leave sales to the rookies when I could bring in twice the clients they did? 

It left my plate full. Especially since it wasn’t my only job. I found myself needing to stay awake longer. That’s when the pills became my pills. It wasn’t a big deal, it really wasn’t. I only took enough to stay focused. It was very difficult to make money when you were tired all the time so I ended the tired. 

Six o’clock and I finish with my last client. They are buying, of course they are buying. I never lose a customer. Never. I hop in my Bentley Continental GT and head to the club. She’s a beautiful machine and she should be for $200,000. When I pull up to the curb in front of the valet, men and women stare. The men are wishing they were me and the women want to sleep with me. It doesn’t matter that I’m over forty and my hair is greying. People are moved by money and power. 

“Mr. Baelish, good to see you,” the valet says, taking my keys. Of course it’s good to see me, I am the man who pays his bills.

“Take care of her, Marco.”

“As always, Mr. Baelish.”

I own this club and it is _the_ club in New York City. People wait in line for hours to get inside. Of course my bouncers really only let in the most important people, the richest people or the most beautiful women. The club alone brings in around $20,000,000 a year after expenses. To put it simply, I have money. I have lots of money. 

When I go inside people fawn over me, come up to greet me, but they are careful not to fawn too much. I have little patience for people who annoy me. I make my way through the crowd as quickly as possible and retreat to my office on the second floor. My objective as always is to go over the numbers, the sales and expenses. Ensure I am not losing money anywhere. If I find out anyone is stealing from me, they’re fired. If anyone so much as effects one cent of my money, they’re fired. I have no sympathy. I do not care if their mother is sick or their dog is dying. Everyone is replaceable.

I sit at the desk and watch the cameras. People dance and laugh. Drunken stupor. Sexual acts take place on my screens, drug use. There is nothing I haven’t seen. It doesn’t move me, it doesn’t shock me. I am numb to all of it. I only intervene if it disrupts my business. Business. It’s everything. 

I go back out on the floor for a while, to mingle, to show my face...to be a presence. They like to see me, as though I’m a celebrity. They like to see the man their money is going to. I go to the bar and get a drink. Scotch. It goes down hard and that’s why I like it. I’m about to leave and call it a night when something grabs my attention from the corner of my eye. Red. I turn to see. Red hair and eyes as blue as a fictional ocean. 

She’s tall and leggy. Skin the color of porcelain. Short black dress scooped at the neck and I can see the mountains of her breasts. She’s smiling at some other girl holding onto her arm. Her cheeks blushed red from alcohol. Why do I stop? Why can’t I move? I need to get going, I need to go home and pretend to sleep. I am stuck. I stare like an idiot. She looks at me, and makes eye contact and I honestly don’t know if it is coincidence or she felt me looking. 

Her friend notices and whispers something in her ear. The two of them make their way toward me. I stand still, a statue. 

“Are you Petyr Baelish?” her friend asks, and the red haired one seems to blush a deeper shade of crimson. 

“I am.” I answered her but I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t move my eyes off the red-head. They are up close now. They are very young but the way they are dressed and their beauty probably allowed them to slip past my bouncers. 

“I love your club,” the friend says. “Everyone wants to get into it.”

I really don’t care what she thinks. “What about you?” I ask the one I cannot move my eyes from. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Yes.” Her voice is soft and shy.

“What’s your name?”

I watch as her eyes dart. Looking around. She’s scared of something but I have no idea what. “I’m Sansa.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Sansa.”

I am transfixed. I have never seen a woman more beautiful but I do not allow that to show. “I hope you plan to come again.”

She nods. “Okay.”

I walk away. I leave them there. It is time for me to go back to my apartment. I have so many files to look over, so many numbers to count and the morning will come before I am ready.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I am enjoying writing this Petyr. So many times we write a modern Petyr and he is the exact same Petyr but with a suit. We are all guilty of it. I asked myself what Petyr would be like if he were born in a modern world, what took place in his life to make him this way? What modern factors would make him slightly different from the Petyr we love from Game Of Thrones and yet still a little bit the same?
> 
> So anyway, here's my second chapter and I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I'm enjoying it.

**_Petyr_ **

I wake up with a raging hard-on. My balls tight and swollen. Images of red hair, blue eyes and milky skin run through my head. It's been too long since I last yanked one out so I spit in my hand and fist my cock, rolling my nuts with the other hand. I think of the red-head. What was her name again? Sansa? Yeah that was it. 

I think of Sansa's delicate little fingers wrapped around my dick instead of my own. I think of her lips sucking me dry. I think of those long legs in the air while I pound the fuck out of her. I’m jerking my cock like a mad man. I cum hard and long, thick ropes gushing out onto my stomach. Relief.

Shower, teeth, suit, pills. Briefcase, keys. Off to work. 

Saturdays were long days. At least they felt that way. On Saturdays I stay at the office. Varys and I meet with our lab rats and researchers. We talk side effects and risk factors. We talk cost and profit. We meet with our lawyers and go over all of our current lawsuits because there are always lawsuits. Whenever someone had a loved one that died it seemed like they needed to blame it on someone. If not the doctors themselves they'd come after companies like mine. The cancer victims are my favorite. As if it is our drugs that kill them and not the cancer itself. 

Sebastian Grant sits across from me. He is a good lawyer. The best of the best that money can buy so I bought him. He had been filled with grand ideas of moral code and justice at first but it hadn't taken long for me to convince him. Well, it was the zeros that had convinced him. He had an ex-wife to make alimony payments to and a brand new young wife with a brand new young baby to support. 

"Petyr, I have to be straight with you. The Poole case is going to be a tough one. I may lose. Or you may have to come off a considerably larger chunk of money to settle."

"You never lose."

"Yeah but this time it's different. A teenage girl became addicted to opiates manufactured by _this_ company and overdosed. She's dead."

"It's not my company's fault she didn't take them as directed. Why don't they sue the doctor who prescribed them to her?"

"They are," Varys interjects. "It doesn't matter."

Sebastian nods in agreement. "He's right. Her parents hired the best attorney in New York City-"

"I thought you were the best attorney in New York City."

The German-American sighs. I love to get under his skin. I love getting under everyone's skin really. "Petyr, the facts don't matter on this one as much as they should. They are going to yank at the heart strings of the jury, convincing them that both the doctor and you are responsible for killing their little girl. They are going to put teary-eyed witnesses on the stand and the jury will be so heartbroken they will vote in the family's favor."

"Can we buy the jury?"

"You can't buy everyone." Varys says. 

"You'd be surprised. Fine. Just make sure you scrutinize every single jury member. Pick the ones most likely to go on hard facts. What else do you want me to do?"

He shakes his head. "Just be ready to empty your pockets."

I leave the office for lunch. I can’t stand staying inside the same building all day. My assistant, Olyvar, had offered to order something for me and have it brought up but I declined. Instead I opt for sushi at the little Japanese joint down the street. The staff was always yelling at one another and they weren't overly friendly but the grub was good. I eat all I can, which is a lot. You would never believe how much I can eat by looking at me. I stay very thin without even trying but I’m not complaining. Most men my age were struggling with love-handles and hair loss. Diets and exercise. I never seem to have to worry about those things. 

Back to the office I go, biding my time for four more hours until I leave for my club. I always enjoyed my night job more than my day job but I feel exceptionally excited to get there this evening. I eat two more pills on the drive over, as I wonder if the red-head will be back. As I hand my keys to Marco, I think it's unlikely she would come back again so soon, and no more than I make that assumption my eyes scan the crowd waiting outside and she was there. Tonight she is wearing a blue v-necked dress that hugs her body. I’m not exaggerating. It looks like it had been glued on her. I know she is young, maybe nineteen or twenty, using a fake ID to get into my club, but she has the body of a woman. Full breasts, small waist, wider hips. Sexy.

As I pass by the bouncers I stop for a moment and speak with the two to make sure they let her in. They probably would have anyway but I didn’t feel like leaving it up to them. I make my way inside, music pumping, business booming. I could almost see the dollar signs. I busy myself going over the books as usual but I am anxious to get back on the floor. I want to see her again, talk to her. Want to get as far as I can get with her. I want to taste her lips, both sets. I page Ros into my office. She runs the club when I am not there, handles all of the petty shit I don’t have time for.

“Yes, Mr. Baelish?” she says when she enters.

“Before you leave tonight do a quick run down over all the books. Make sure everything is in order, will ya? I don’t feel like staring at numbers right now.”

“Of course, sir. Is there anything else you’ll be needing?”

“Is anyone is my personal lounge tonight?”

“No, no one of that stature as arrived yet this evening.”

“Good, I’m going to use it. There’s a girl out there, she has red hair and she’s wearing a blue dress. Her name is Sansa. Bring her to me. Also a bottle of Scotch and whatever the lady wants.”

I watch her eyes change as questions pop into her head. I never take girls into my lounge with me. “Is that it, sir?”

“Yes. Make her comfortable. I’ll be out shortly.”

I remove my jacket and tie. Unbutton the top two buttons of my shirt. I take a look at my reflection in the mirror on the back of the office door. I know I am probably twenty-five years older than this girl but I also know I am a good-looking man. Even if she’s not immediately attracted to me she will be before the night is over. I always get what I want. Satisfied with my appearance, I make my way to my lounge. 

The VIP lounges are located near the back of the club. There are four, counting mine, but only the richest or most famous people are allowed to use mine. It was the largest and had the most comfortable furniture. White chairs and a sofa, blue lighting. White drapes surround it and when open there’s a view of the entire club. It has a fifty-two inch flat screen television in it as well. When I arrive the drapes are open and she is sitting on the sofa, long legs crossed before her. She looks up expectantly when I enter.

“Thank you for joining me.” Close the drapes behind me. “Are you comfortable? Did Ros give you a drink?”

“Yes, thank you,” she nods to the bottle of champagne sitting on the table.

“Armand de Brignac? You have excellent taste.”

She blushes. “Oh no, I had no idea what to order. Your..uh...the lady who brought me here, she suggested it.”

“No matter. May I sit?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

I sit next to her on the sofa, very little space between us. She doesn’t slide over so I take this to mean she doesn’t mind the closeness. She smells of clean linen and lemons. I like it. Up close her eyes are sapphire pools and for a moment it feels like I am drowning. 

“So what’s it like to own a place like this, Mr. Baelish?”

“I like it. It’s not all glitter and glam but it’s definitely more interesting than your average desk job. Oh, and please, call me Petyr.”

“Petyr it is.” She smiles sweetly at me. Bites her bottom lip, giggles. Is she flirting? 

“Is your friend here with you tonight, Sansa?”

“Nope. I came by myself.”

“What brought you back so soon?”

She blushes again, this time a deeper shade of crimson. Her eyes dart down, then dark back up to meet my own. “I don’t know, I guess I saw something I like.”

She is definitely flirting with me and I think I get her game. Young rich, girl looking for a thrill with an older man. Maybe even looking for a sugar daddy. I see them all the time but usually I ignore them. She was too beautiful to ignore. I figure I could spare throwing a few pretty things her way if it means she’ll ride my dick all night. 

“What do you like to do, Sansa? Are you a student?” I ask, moving sideways so that I face her. I drape my arm behind her on the back of the sofa. She rests her shoulder on my arm and leans toward me a little more.

“Yes.”

“What are you studying?”

“Political science.”

“Really?”

“Why? Does that surprise you?”

“A little. Beautiful girls usually study art or nineteenth-century poetry. You know, something completely useless that makes them sound educated while actually relying entirely on their looks or daddy’s money to get by in life.”

She laughs and her small hand presses against my chest. “You’re funny, Petyr.” The contact sends a jolt straight down to my cock. It has been way too long since I have indulged in my desires with a woman.

“You’re beautiful, Sweetling.” I run my hand over her cheek and she turns her face towards my palm. Her skin is soft and smooth. I immediately wonder if the rest of her body feels the same. “May I kiss you?”

She doesn’t answer me with words, instead she tilts her chin up and hovers centimeters from my mouth, closing her eyes. I close the gap, press my lips to hers. I ease her along for a bit. Then I will her to open her lips with my tongue. She opens cautiously. She is not very experienced, I can tell. I have no problem remedying that. I use my tongue to guide hers until she is mocking my movements. She is a quick study.

She sighs into my mouth and I’m on fire. My cock hard inside my pants. I can’t help but reach down to rub my hand over the bare flesh of her legs. Up over her knee. Further up still, her thigh. I’m making my way under the bottom of her dress. 

A phone chirps. She’s pull from me way too quickly. “Shit. What time is it?”

“I don’t know.” My hand is still on her thigh. I’m rubbing it softly, up and down. I want to feel between her legs. I need to know if she’s wet. 

“I have to go.” She reaches to a purse on the floor and pulls out a mobile. “Shit. Shit. I’m sorry. I really have to go.” She clutches the purse and stands up. She’s almost through the drapes.

“Wait, how can I contact you?”

She stops and her eyes dart around a few times. She walks back over to me, leans down and presses her lips to mine. “I’ll be back.” Then she is gone.

“Fuck.” 

I pour a glass of Scotch and take a pill.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Sansa_ **

The female manager stalks me down and says that Petyr Baelish has invited me to join him for the evening. I immediately send a text to Margaery and tell her to send me a text in about an hour. When the phone goes off I jump up and act like it’s something urgent, like I have to leave immediately. I don’t really but I can’t stay and let him keep pawing at me. I seen the growing bulge in his pants. He was ready to fuck on the spot and it was too soon for that. I needed to string him along until I get what I need and he doesn’t seem like the type of guy who keeps a girl around for very long after he’s done fucking her.

I make my exit quickly in case he tries to follow me. Hail a cab. This was all going to be much easier than I had originally expected. All I had had to do was get in his line of sight and I had him. Such a predictable creep. I hop in the backseat of the cab. I decide I’m going to make Mr. Baelish wait a few days before he sees me again. Gotta keep his interest after all. I giggle at how easy it was to catch his eye, feeling giddy. He has no idea what’s coming to him, the arrogant prick thinks he’s untouchable. Soon enough he will know that he isn’t and I can’t wait to see his face when his whole world comes crashing down. 

The cab drops me off but before I go inside I sneak over to the side of the house and pull my back pack with my change of clothes out from under the shrubs that wrap around the porch. I shimmy into my jeans and pull a t-shirt on to hide my dress. Tuck the heels and my purse into my bag and slip into my sandals. Nothing is out of the ordinary when I walk through the front door looking like a typical teenager.

Mr. Poole was in the living room watching the news. “How was the library, Sansa?” he asks as I enter. “Get anything accomplished?”

“Oh yeah, tons Mr. Poole. Where’s Arya?” 

“Upstairs. Most likely planning to take over the world.”

“Sounds about right. Well, I’m really tired. I’m going to call it a night. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Sansa.”

I go upstairs to mine and Arya’s room. Arya is my younger sister, she’s fifteen. She doesn’t say anything as I enter, just continues to stare mindlessly at her laptop. She’s never been the sweetest kid to be honest but she’s only gotten worse since the accident. She always stays at a distance and I guess I can’t blame her. I feel her eyes on me as I pull off my clothes but she doesn’t comment on the dress or why I was covering it up. Most likely she doesn’t care, probably figures I snuck out to a party or something.

I slip into something comfortable, grab my laptop, and plop onto my twin bed which sets on the opposite side of the room from Arya’s. I miss having my own room but when we were first taken in by the Poole’s there was only one vacant room so we had no choice but to share. Now Jeyne’s room is empty and Mr. Poole said one of us could use it but I just can’t. I don’t even go into it, it reminds me too much of her. I think Arya feels the same but she will never say it out loud. 

I open up chrome and resume my research. I scroll through the information. Over fifty suits had been filed against Petyr Baelish’s pharmaceutical company in the last ten years and most of them had been thrown out of court. A hand full had ended in settlements. I read through articles and interviews. 

_”I express my deepest condolences to the family,” Baelish stated. “My heart always goes out to anyone who loses a loved one but that still does not make it the fault of my company. We manufacture these drugs to help people and some of them do have very serious consequences if not taken as directed but I cannot be held accountable for those who can’t read a warning label.”_

Such a smug bastard. I keep reading and watch a few youtube interviews. It’s all more of the same. People die and his pockets keep getting fatter. He always expresses his deepest condolences while saying fuck you, it’s not my problem. I know he’s not the only one out there getting rich off habit-forming drugs that kill people but it’s personal for me. I can’t take down all of big pharma but I think I can make sure Petyr Baelish loses the Poole suit. Maybe he wasn’t the one who fed them the pills but if people like him stopped making them they would still be here. 

I close my laptop and close my eyes. I need to sleep. Revenge takes a lot out of a person.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Petyr_ **

It had been two days and she had not returned. I was beginning to think she wasn't going to and the idea drove me nuts. When I set my sights on something I absolutely have to have it and I accept nothing less. So it was with her...Sansa. Even as I went about my daily routines, work included, her face kept popping into my head. I tried to console my ego, telling myself she wasn't the only red-head in the world, that I could find another one. I didn't want another one. I wanted that one. The taste of her lips and feel of her skin beneath my fingers was etched in my memory. 

To be honest I don't get laid a lot. Understand though that this is entirely my choice. Many opportunities present themselves for a man like myself, _many_ , but rarely ever do I see a woman worth my time. Some might say I'm arrogant, conceited...I prefer to think of myself as picky. Which is why I wasn't married and hadn't been in an actual relationship since I was a young man. It is very hard for a woman to make that sort of impression on me so you can imagine my difficulty accepting that this _girl_ had not left my thoughts since I had met her.

"You seem rather distracted, Petyr," Varys says. He was sitting in the chair across my desk, attempting to give me the details on a new drug our busy little scientists were working on. 

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh really? What's it for?"

"What's what for?"

"The new drug, Petyr."

"It's a new pain pill. Stronger than any they have made yet."

"Hmph. Well, maybe you heard that but you have been distracted."

I eye my partner. He is an unusual man. Chubby. Keeps his head as bald as a cue ball. He comes off as somewhat flamboyant but I have no idea if he is actually gay...I have no idea what he's into. Our minds just work well together, a fact we learned back when we were working for Lannister Enterprises. 

"So are you going to tell me?" he asks. 

"Tell you what?"

"Jesus. For someone so smart you are an idiot. What has you so distracted?"

"I'd rather not."

"Fine. Keep it up there in that sick little head of yours."

"So what's the estimated manufacturing cost of this new miracle pill?"

"Half that of it's predecessors."

"Well, it's got my vote already. Side effects?"

"Still testing it. We should know soon enough."

"Sounds promising." Fuck, get the fuck out of my head. It's driving me insane. I can't concentrate on what he's saying for two minutes without the vision of her popping back into my brain. "Varys, I think I'm done for the day."

I reach in my pocket, pull out a bottle and pop two pills in my mouth. 

"I think you need to stop taking those."

"Why? We sell them to everyone else."

"We sell them to people who need them. You don't need them."

I almost laugh. "Keep telling yourself that."

"Which part?"

"I'll see you tomorrow."

 

I go back to my place to change. Black button down, red tie, black slacks. I have impeccable tastes in clothing and money to afford a tailor. My clothes are made to fit my thin frame and I know I look damn good as I look in the mirror. I'm hoping she thinks so too, she has to. 

I arrive at my club early and I know if she does come it will be a while but I can't help myself. I'm anxious. I busy myself with paperwork and numbers as the time ticks by slowly. It's not until after nine o'clock that there is a knock on my office door. 

"Come in."

It's Ros. "Sorry to disturb you Mr. Baelish but your presence has been requested."

"By whom?"

"The girl that was with you the other night."

My heart skips beats. Or it feels like it does anyway. 

"I seated her in your lounge. She's waiting."

"Make her wait longer. Tell her I'll be with her shortly. Then in about an hourntell her I'm ready for her and bring her here."

"Here to your office?"

"Yes."

"Very well."

The agony of waiting is torture. I pace my office a few times. She made me wait, I have to make her wait. It's only fair but it's killing me. The minutes seem to drag by and I try not to look at the clock. It occurs to me that she may tire of waiting and leave but I have to take the chance. She needs to know who's in charge and hopefully she suffers as I have suffered over the last two days. 

As it nears the hour I sit back down at my desk, calming myself. The image of perfect composure. Surely she hasn't left yet or Ros would have told me. No, she's still here...waiting to see me. I am bursting with excitement but my face is a mask of nothing at all. Finally the knock comes at my door again. 

"Enter."

The door opens and I half expected to see Ros standing before me but it's not Ros. It's my red-hair beauty, tall and leggy. Tonight she's in a long-sleeved ivory dress with a deep scooped neckline. It flares out around her thighs, ending just above her knees. 

"Hello, Sansa."

"Hello, Mr. Baelish."

I want to ask her where she's been but that would tell her I have been anxiously awaiting her return, that would make her think she has the upper hand. I can't allow that to happen.

"Would you like to go for a drink?"

"You mean somewhere else?"

I nod. "Yes. Somewhere quieter."

"Okay."

Within moments we are in my car, heading east. I know a great little restaurant that sits over looking East River. I think she'll like it. As I drive I keep glancing over at her bare legs, I want to put my hand on one but I refrain. 

"Do you have a boyfriend, Sansa?" I ask. Not that I care but I'm interested. I'm interested in her. 

"Not at the moment. I had one but we broke up a few months ago."

"Why's that?"

"I dunno, I just lost interest I suppose. What about you?"

"Me? No."

"No you don't have a girlfriend?"

I shake my head, shifting into fifth. "No. I don't do girlfriends." It's probably best that she understand my intentions now. 

She laughs. "You don't do girlfriends."

"No."

"It wasn't a question."

"I know."

I don't have reservations at the restaurant but they know me so I don't need them. We are seated at a lovely little table on the deck, over looking the water. I order drinks and they don't bother to ask for her ID, they would never question me. I'm trying to impress her but I get the feeling she's not easily impressed. A challenge. I never say no to a challenge. 

"So, what's your last name, Sansa? You know mine."

"Stone."

"Any brothers or sisters?"

"Only child."

"What do your parents do?"

"Are you always this boring or are you just making small talk?"

I grin. She's a little pistol. "I'm curious."

"About what?"

"What do you think?"

She smiles over her glass before taking a sip. The waiter returns to our table for our orders. 

"I'll have the salmon with a side salad." I want to keep it light. 

"And for the lady?"

"Well, that's entirely up to her."

She orders the ribeye and I smile to myself. Is she trying to tell me she likes meat?

As we wait for our food she asks me about the club and what else I do. I answer honestly. For someone so young she speaks with knowledge. I realize I have no clue how old she is but I know she is not twenty-one. 

"How old are you, Sansa?"

"Nineteen."

She is a child but a legal child so I do not feel any guilt. 

"Do you often find yourself pursuing older men?"

She takes another sip of her drink and sits it down most lady-like. An image of perfect composure. I see a bit of myself in her. 

"No," she answers. "If I'm being honest I never have to do the pursuing."

That is definitely the truth. A girl with her beauty likely had the boys and men lined up. And yet she had waited for me. 

"What brought you to my club?"

"My friend wanted to go. We hear about it all the time at school. It's quite popular. She found someone who could make us fake IDs. Does my age bother you Mr. Baelish?"

"No."

Our food arrives and we eat, not talking about anything of importance. I ask her about her friend who had been with her the first night. She asks me about my jobs. I ask her about school. It is idle conversation. In actuality I can't stop thinking about taking her back to my apartment. I can't get the image of her legs wrapped around my head out of my mind. 

When we are done eating I pay the bill and leave a hefty tip. Outside the restaurant we wait for the valet to pull my car around and I open the door for her to get inside. 

For a while I just drive and not once does she ask where we were going. After I get the car up to speed and keep it there I let go of the stick and put my hand on her thigh. I run my fingers over her skin, down to her knee and back up again. She is so soft. I inch my way up under her dress. My fingers lightly touch her through her panties. She spreads her legs wider and I can feel my cock getting hard in my pants. I want to touch her but I stop and I wait. I pull my hand back, returning it to the gear selector. 

"Are you enjoying yourself, Mr. Baelish?"

"Oh not as much as I will be, Sweetling. And I told you, call me Petyr."

In a few moments I pull up in front of my apartment building. I turn the car off and go around to open the door for her, hand the keys to the valet. There's always a valet. 

I take her by the hand and lead her through the door and onto the elevator. As soon as the doors close I take her, pull her to me, smother her mouth with my own. Despite dinner she still tastes of lemons and sweetness. Her tongue entwines with my own and I am lost. I press my body into hers and she's pinned to the wall. Her hands are in my hair, mine are gripped onto her slim waist. I want to take her right here. 

The elevator dings and the doors open. We are on my floor. I take her hand and pull her with me until we reach my door. I'm still trying to kiss her as I fumble for my keys. Finally I get the door open and we stumble inside, entangled in one another. 

I don't have to see the sofa to know where it's at and I guide her over to it, our lips never parting, and sink her down onto it on her back. I'm on top of her, my hands find her breasts and I squeeze through the fabric. I snake my hand down under her dress until my hand hits the barrier of her panties. I can feel the dampness seeping through. She is wet. She wants me. I move the fabric aside to touch her and find confirmation, her slit is slick with desire. 

"Ooh yes," I moan, as my fingers slip through her folds. She moans and her hips buck against my hand. 

Then it all stops. She's pushing my hand away and pulling her dress down. She's pushing me back and standing up from the sofa. 

"I'm sorry," she stutters. "I have to go."

I'm dazed in my lust. "What? Why?"

"I...I just have to. I have to go."

I'm on the sofa on my stomach. My cock is hard between my legs and I can't believe she's leaving me right now. 

"Where's your phone?" She asks. 

"What?"

"Your phone?"

"My pocket."

She reaches down into my pants and I can't help but feel even more aroused. She takes my phone and punches buttons. 

"My number. You have it now. But I have to go."

She tosses the phone onto the sofa next to me and she is gone. I am aching with need and I'm disappointed.

But I have her number.


End file.
